passansplume

50 Best Design Blogs

2009-12-24T22:29:00.000-08:00

From The London Times- http://property.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/property/interiors/article6953167.ece?token=null&offset=0&page=1

Props to everyone one the list- much deserved. My favorites are 2, 10, 18, 24, and 46. I am literally inspired by them every day.

Baking is almost over.

2009-12-24T22:22:00.000-08:00

This week: Peppermint chocolate chip meringues, ginger meringues, almond orange biscotti, cinnamon chocolate chip biscotti, gingerbreat, challah.
Tomorrow: Dutch babies (I don't know why we call them that, they're really just pop-overs).
And then we will only eat vegetables. No, really. Well, mostly.

Brussels Sprouts

2009-11-09T12:57:00.000-08:00

are the new bacon (which was the new cupcake.) I swear they are everywhere in the foodie blog world right now.

http://whatsforlunchdot.com/2009/11/05/totally-geek-to-totally-chic/
http://www.food52.com/blog/230_week_20_finalists_your_best_brussels_sprouts_recipe
http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/nutty-brussels-sprouts?autonomy_kw=brussels%20sprouts
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/28/dining/28mini.html?_r=1&scp=2&sq=brussels%20sprouts%20Bittman&st=cse

I mean, I'm sure they are yummy, and all. My parents both endured mandatory brussels sprout eating, so that, along with liver, never graced our table, and I've never that them. Which is weird, really. I don't think I've ever had a vegetable I didn't like; I guess I better hurry up and eat some before they're passe. Maybe I'll roast some for Thanksgiving.

{image from apartment therapy}

Free

2009-09-14T23:03:00.001-07:00

Free is good, yes? This lovely place has all kinds of wonderful vintage images that you can just, right this very minute, print out. Yay.

No.

2009-09-14T10:36:00.000-07:00

Mark Bittman, I know you are a genius. I am grateful that you have helped so many people conquer their fear of ingredients and allowed them to make actual food. I appreciate that you do not pander to the preciousness of foodies, and that you have presented extremely sensible (one of my highest compliments!) opinions about cooking and consumption. But why, why, did you unleash the no-knead foolishness upon us? How is a gloopy mess that takes 20 hours or so of thought an advance? What is so bad about proofing some yeast, mixing it up, kneading for a few minutes, letting it rise and then putting it in the oven? This is not a big deal, really.

I tried the famous method this weekend. It took forever! It was messy! I burned my finger on the bloody pot!* So, I don't know. I guess it turned out well, with a nice cust and chewy inside, but it was rather a lot of bother. I don't think I'll do it again.

*This was my fault entirely, of course.

Dutch Babies

2009-08-25T20:06:00.001-07:00

When I was 11, my baby brother was born. I had spent my whole, long life as an only child and I WAS FINE WITH THAT. I had already, the previous year, suffered the indignity of a stepfather- a weird, Dutch, Kasha eating, marathon running, Russian dissident hosting nightmare-and my pre-adolescent self took to my metaphorical bed for months in response to all the upheaval that was happening around me. But then, you see, there was this baby, and I was pretty gone over him.

My parents both worked full-time, and although baby brother was cared for by a host of reliable parties, much of the time he was mine. And we loved each other- he called me Sister Wisabis (I was so sad when his speech therapist "fixed" this), I called him Drooper, and we were each other's. Years past, we lived in different countries, and later just plain different worlds, and then, well, he grew up. He grew up so much, even, that he joined the Marines, and last month he deployed to Iraq. He is in a relatively safe place, and he will BE FINE, but I am now scared for him a lot of the time.

Every Christmas, and sometimes just because, my mum made Dutch Babies, and although they are devoid of all nutrutional content, I think they are a near perfect food. Growing up, I had them as a brunch food, but lately I have been using them with salads and soups (yes, I know it's summer, but there's always room for soup).

Dutch Babies

4 eggs
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup flour or a gluten-free flour mix (which I've been doing and, surprisingly, it works just fine)
2/3 cup milk, 2% is what I'm using but I suppose anything is perfectly OK
2 tablespoons soft butter

Preheat oven to 400°F.

Butter or spray two 9-inch cake pans.

Mix everything together; don't worry about the order.

Bake for 20 minutes, then reduce heat to 350°F and bake 10 minutes.

Serve from the pan or put on a serving platter.

Also, it turned out the crazy Dutchman has his charms.

Summer

2009-08-25T19:38:00.001-07:00

To the surprise of no one, we have been terrible, slatternly slackers. In no particular order, we ate from other people's gardens, slept 'til 1pm, walked everywhere, stayed up late, saw some rock-n-roll, rode on trains in the East Coast, looked after wee ones, smoked and drank more than we should have, had many patio evenings, prettied up the house, rediscovered beets, and generally had a fine, fine time.

I hate, hate, hate that summer is over. The thought of the looming winter kills me. Part attitude, part gear, I know, but I have never, ever mastered it. What do you do to get through it? How do you cope? I know there is more lovely weather ahead of us, but school starts tomorrow (and can I just say, WOW to their new school- I never thought it possible in Columbus.) so, effectively, summer bye-bye. Sweaters are good, though, right? I like sweaters.

Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/christophesum/1121107390/

Sew terrific

2009-06-07T11:44:00.000-07:00

It's been open for a little over a year now, but I finally went to Sew to Speak, the glorious new(ish) fabric store in Beechwold. It took me so long to get there because, as much as I love beautiful things, I am not crafty. At all. So while I was quite pleased that the store existed, I figured I would leave patronage to people who know what they're doing with a needle and thread. Then, however, we had a bit of a curtain crisis and thought I'd try my hand. I found the most divine fabric that had all the elements I was looking for- white background, bold graphic elements, vintage feel, and ideally incorporating all the colors in the house ( green, black, orange, rasberry and navy)- it woudn't have been more perfect if I'd dreamed it up. And though I couldn't sew a straight line with a gun to my head, I cheated with Stich-Witch-ery and I LOVE it. Oh, and the fabric was about $14 a yard, which seemed to be about the middle price range, so for less than $30 I had a curtain that I actually like better than anything I could have gotten at Anthropologie for 3 times the price.

Really, really beautiful.

2009-06-07T11:35:00.000-07:00

It was hard to be cynical at this wedding. The planets aligned to make this a near perfect day- the weather were people were charming and happy, the bride beautiful and sanguine. There were many, many opportunities for weepiness- seeing little T alone would do it, but the father's speech brought down the house. I really do feel honored to have been a part of it. Bon Voyage, L and D.

I'm not getting married

2009-05-12T21:36:00.001-07:00

But a good friend has honored me by inviting me to be a bridesmaid in her upcoming wedding, and other good friends are getting married the weekend after that, so I've had weddings on the brain for a few months. Both of the aforementioned brides have lovely, though very different, taste, and I am sure everything about their wedding will be beautiful, but, wow, are weddings a trigger for some people! Everybody has an opinion about what to do, and of course I do, too.

Many years ago I had a small, charming wedding that reflected both my taste and my finances, marred only by the knowledge that I was making a terrible mistake. Tiny though my wedding was, with it's 30 second ceremony (totally not kidding) performed by a Wiccan priestess, there were still a fair number of details- I think of them now as opportunities to reflect what our values and aspirations were; personal, political, certainly aesthetic. My vintage '30's dress that left no question about whether I was gestating, wheel barrels full of bread from my favorite bakery, beautiful flowers and lots of homemade hummus and baba ganoush (which we lived off of for weeks afterwards- no wonder E is so fond of the stuff), all in the house of my style mentor, who was about to become part of my family.

I'm struck now by both how crazy weddings are- it is a DAY! One day!- but also by how people who haven't experienced it are genuinely baffled by how important it feels to make sure everyone you know has a memorable experience that reflects who you and your partner are and what you want for your future. In our boho crowd, weddings seem very remote; we who are living in sin, possibly participants of a quicky wedding when the line on the test turned pink, or blissfully single. Certainly many of our friends would love to be married, but are living in a country whose values in this area are both immoral and ludicrous. The idea of a traditional wedding smacks to some of conspicuous consumption, heterosexual privilege and seriously wacky sexist weirdness, but I'm trying to understand it as a big party that means to celebrate all the promise you feel your life has with people who have meaning to you. That said, I feel like these parties shouldn't be limited to a wedding. Any milestone qualifies- buying a house, having a baby, opening a business, having your first book published, running your first 5-K, getting good news after your first mammogram.- what else? I overheard 2 women at the daytime shower talk about how we should have showers for each other every 20 years. I think that is f-ing brilliant.

All that said, these are the components of a perfect milestone party:

-People, including, but not limited to, bestest friends, family, children, people who have known you forever, a few people you just met but know you will like each other for a long time, a few select near-strangers to spice things up, and people who will bring you a great present (yes, I am that shallow).

-Food. Frankly I think potlucks are ideal, even in this context, but failing that, assigning select friends a food task. My perfect party food list would be a)bread, cheese, olives, fruit, b) a buffet from my favorite Ethiopian restaurant, c) a tortilla bar or d) lots of salad and homemade pasta. A note on dishes and the like- no disposables please. Not only are they tragically wasteful, they are super tacky.

-Place. Beautiful, within your budget (like your backyard. Or the backyard of your best friend who has a fabulous garden.), that will make you happy when you look around; at the beginning when you're there alone, half-way through when you love everybody, and at the end when you are ready to say good night.

-Your perfect outfit. For me that would certainly be a dress, for you I don't know, but something you would be happy to see yourself in a picture 10 years from now, and something that you can eat and drink and sit however you want in.

-Music. Anything that makes you happy. Maybe your favorite band can come, or maybe you will have your favorites on an I-pod. Just make sure there are a few songs that everyone knows, and a few that will always make you think of that day. If this was my party, I would say nothing really dischordant or angry, but you may feel otherwise.

-Flowers. A lot. Simple arrangements.

-Speeches. Not too many. Not too long. But people who love you who are willing to say nice things about you in public is a wonderful thing. It is so nice to known and loved.

-A magic wand, so you can wave it and have everything be cleaned up, with you snug in your bed (or wherever else you want to be).

And you know, a little Martha never hurt anybody.

See, how hard is that? (Ducks)

{Images from joannagoddard.blogspot.com, flickr.com/photos/41924291@N00/2883428037/,saipua.blogspot.com/

This weekend

2009-05-06T19:01:00.000-07:00

I will:

Co-host 2 showers in my capacity as a bridesmaid, which includes baking various items, gathering flowers, finding all the vintage tablecloths in my basement, making small talk with Arlington matrons, making sure no one gets too tipsy, organizing a scrapbook for the bride and trying to not to feel like I should get to register for presents just because.

Host my mother. She is lovely, and not a bit of trouble, but I do have to wash the sheets and make the bed.

See Margot and the Nuclear So-and-So's at Circus.

Host a Mother's Day brunch on Sunday (outside, I hope), with my mum, my mother-in-law and her partner, and maybe an old family friend. And B better be there, too. This necessitates waking up early on Saturday to go to the Farmer's Market (which is 4 blocks away- how great is that?) to get fresh eggs, dill and asparagus for a frittata, and maybe some good bread. We'll see what else moves us.

All I want for Mother's Day is for someone to mow my lawn. I'd say the odds are about even.

*image from purlbee.com*

Yup

2009-04-20T09:21:00.000-07:00

The rumors are true. His Saltiness will be Ben's guest on June 12 at the Rife Center. Info here
and here.

Space Ear

2009-03-30T12:30:00.000-07:00

A work by Ryan Agnew, showing for a limited time in our living room.

Bet you can't guess the materials.

It has replaced soup!

2009-03-29T10:20:00.000-07:00

We seriously eat this every day now.

Some rice noodles- cook them
Lots of veggies (this week it's been mustard greens and cabbage, but whatever strikes your fancy)- steam, braise or saute them
An egg or 2- either scrambled or omlet-ed, then cut into strips
-OR-
tofu, sauteed

Some coconut milk, Bragg's tamari, and something spicy- recently, the chili sauce that is in the bottle with the rooster on it

Mix it up.

Eat.

E will be sick of this in 3, 2, 1...

My favorite flowers

2009-03-29T10:17:00.000-07:00

are ranunculus. But if you ask me in person what my favorite flowers are, I will say peonies, because I can't get my mouth to say ranunculus.

2009-03-11T16:02:00.000-07:00

How insanely wonderful is this? Finding things to wear for favorite children and young adult characters would be the most fabulous job ever. For Ramona, or maybe even Ellen Tibbits, these would do nicely. The gang from Harriet the Spy* can wear these. I need to stop looking at these sites so I don't accidentally convince myself that a French '30's school girl uniform is my next look. Or believe that E would ever wear any of this stuff.

*Possibly my favorite book on earth.

Pizza Pizza

2009-03-04T14:16:00.000-08:00

Has anyone checked out any of the Wild Goose Collective events? I love the idea of what they are about, but have not yet managed to go to any of their parties. This one, being free (minus the expense of the pizza you make or bring), seems like a good bet. I am assuming it's kid-friendly- surely it is, right?

I think we'll make some kind of gluten-free pizza so I will actually have something to eat and not
make myself sicking by eating the forbidden wheat (I'm another gluten-free girl). After this, maybe my obsession with all things Italian will be over.

Manga

2009-03-03T19:49:00.001-08:00

I must have been obsessed with food (nothing new) during a recent library visit, because somehow I came home with 10 or 11 books about food- cookbooks, food-related memoirs, histories of ingredients (including one called, with refreshing simplicity, Milk). My favorite in the pile is Heat, an account by a New Yorker writer who, after bravely inviting chef Mario Batali to dinner (a mutual friend was having a birthday, and our author was cooking), began what turned into a 2 year adventure with Italian food. He works in Mario's kitchen for more than a year (this was supposed to be a 6 week assignment-can you imagine what his wife thought? You'd be right), growing competent in basic kitchen skills, moving up to line cook, pasta cook, and, most successfully, the meat cook (probably there is a more elegant word for it, yes?) and finally takes several increasingly lengthy sojourns to Italy where he apprentices with Mario's first pasta teacher, then a world renowned butcher. Heat is best when talking about what people- farmers, butchers, chefs- go though to get the best to people who may or may not appreciate it, and the seeming hopelessness of the Slow-Fooders against massive ag-giants from all over the world, but also when the writer himself has a food epiphany. One such aha moment comes when he is making polenta, and realizes that the difference between what everyone thinks is polenta- a pretty quick though labor intensive cooking of cornmeal on the stove- and real polenta is that, although the traditional polenta takes hours (!), it does not need you after a certain point, apart from an occasional stir, and that it was a far superior polenta, indeed.

I have never made polenta, but after reading this book, and knowing that it was probably the only thing I could make out of it, decided to try it. I got 3 cups of cornmeal from the co-op (please, BTW, go there if you can- they are not doing well and they need you), came home and put it in a pot with 9 cups of water, a few teaspoons of salt, and got to stirring. The book says that the polenta speaks to you when it doesn't need you anymore, but this polenta was telling me that it was done by no longer sticking to the sides (this after about 30 minutes of stirring a simmering pot), reportedly the classic sign of done-ness in polenta speak. I then put it on a tray where it cooled, and then brushed it with some olive oil and stuck it under the broiler for another 30 minutes. I didn't think it would taste like much- after all, it is just plain old cornmeal- but I should have trusted the Italians know what they're doing because, reader, it was good; golden, crispy outside and chewy inside. A fine vehicle for a sauce, and good on its own, too. Next time I'll try to trust that it can take care of itself and see what happens.

While I was stirring, E was making pasta with the pasta maker (did I mention I was a little obsessed this weekend?). She made spaghetti all by herself- I know she's 10 and that doesn't make her some kind of cooking prodigy, but I forget sometimes that she is big and competant. After our seprate projects were done, we made tortelloni, which are kind of like ravioli, but sort of envelope shaped, with a spinach goat cheese filling. We made a bunch that sucked, but eventually some fine motor skills emerged and she said they were pretty good.

Possibly I ended up with all the food books becuase everyone here is sick of soup. Even the people who would drop by to see if I had any on the stove. Even, um, me.

Houseplants- yes or no?

2009-03-03T19:00:00.000-08:00

Sometimes they look so, so pretty, sometimes they're fine in kind of a '70's way, and sometimes they just make things look dirty and cluttered. Also, there is the difficulty of keeping them alive, something I am not particularly adept at. B has managed to keep a collection of plants (mostly) thriving for as long as I've known him- some of the plants are older than him-and a friend endowed me with some very lovely specimens that she did not think would survive a road trip to her new home in SF, but they are mostly ghettoized to the top of the refrigerator* . I would really like to find more dignified homes for them, but our flat surfaces are already spoken for. Has anyone had any luck with hanging them in jars? I'm not thinking of a macrame kind of deal, more something reflective of my whole Museum of Natural History aesthetic (naturalist, pre-WW 2 looking). Maybe a tiny shelf for each plant, mixed in on the art wall? I wonder if I could make that happen. Anyone have any thoughts?

I really, reaaly love these- I may have to relocate some books to give a whole flat surface just to charming green things.

A place some people feel is very vulgar.

Upcoming BenCo shows

2009-03-02T22:23:00.000-08:00

March 3 Phosporecent @ The Summit
March 6 Jason Isbell with Deer Tick @ Rumba
March 11 Maserati with Brainbow and The Reciever
March 12 Neil Hamburger with Daiquri and Hugs and Kisses @ Circus
March 14 Fiasco with Talk Normal and Guinea Worms @ Bourbon St
March 26 Hammel on Trial @ Rumba
March 26 The Death Set with Team Robespierre and Ninjasonic @ The Summit
March 30 Garotas Suecas @ Rumba

For more info, go to bencopresents.com

I will be at the Maserati and Fiasco (my birthday!) shows for sure- we'll see about the others. Hope to see you there.

So...

2009-03-02T22:19:00.000-08:00

...we all know that I am compulsively tidy. Not clean, mind you- you could write your name in the dust on some bookshelves- but things are put away where they belong (and everything has a place where it belongs, even if it is temporarily confused). I even have a low-level sense of guilt about this; I worry that my need for surfaces to be clear has resulted in some degree of angsty-ness for the girl, and unnecessary tension with the boy, that I should be reading Aristotle (it could alternatively be argued that I spend too much time reading, so I guess I'm a bit f-ed) or working at the food pantry. I know that when we have parties and I am obsessively putting everyone's coats on the coat rack, and taking B's glass away when he is still drinking out of it, or when I am spending ridiculous hours arranging books in just the right way, that these are probably not so very healthy. I know that many people consider this sort of thing to be trivial. Anti-feminist, even*.

However. Check this out.

I understand that, according to this study, order means more than having shoes all in one place. It means a general consistency and a fair amount of routine. I get that, and do not claim to have mastered either. I think domestic flexibility is extremely important (our kitchen sink is currently under repair and I have been doing dishes in the tub for the last week- an opportunity for problem solving! and empathy for people in situations different from our own! And I'm allergic to mornings, so there's some built in difficulty there.). And I know many, many families who would consider themselves messy who are all kinds of awesome. Also, of course, fine. But I get a little bit of shite for my need to rid my visible environment of clutter- I have been called rigid, neurotic, retro, bourgeois, and, memorably, a tool of the patriarchy (see * below). A stifler of my child's creativity, even. And these are my friends! So forgive me a little bit of glee in this study.

Discuss.

*I call bullshit on this. I couldn't be more unhappy that domesticity is not considered a worthy art, or a constructive use of time, but I am not interested defending my feminism because some people don't think one can be a thinking person and also bake a cake. Or who think the two are unrelated.

OMG I meant Saturday

2009-02-17T10:31:00.000-08:00

...for the breakfast, that is. Jesus*. SATURDAY.

*This is what it's like inside my head all the time.

Pancake Breakfast

2009-02-17T09:11:00.000-08:00

A few months ago, our friend Zoe was diagnosed with breast cancer. This would be shocking and devastating for anyone, but when you are 31 years old, it's just the last thing in the world you are prepared for. Zoe is doing fine- she started chemotherapy a few months ago and seems to be tolerating it reasonably well- but she is going through all of this with no health insurance, and the chemo has limited her ability to work. So, her wonderful friends got together to organize a fundraiser; a pancake breakfast and silent auction to be held this Sunday morning (and you know if I'm getting up at 8, it must be worth it). Patticake, Snowville Creamery, Clintonville Co-op, Betty's and Jeni's are some of the sponsors, so the pancakes will be wonderful, and there will be live music and a silent auction featuring gift certificates for local restaurants, massage therapy and more.

Here are some details about the breakfast. I really, really hope we see you there- good food, great cause (because, seriously, can you imagine?).

Wonderful

2009-02-14T16:14:00.001-08:00

This is a photo of a piece done by local artist Eva Ball called "Balloon Ladder" done in '04 for the Park of Roses. It's so expressive- such lightness. Makes me long for summer, too.

Yes.

2009-02-14T16:04:00.001-08:00

SJP, wearing Martin Margielas' cloven toed boots. I think I love them.

The family manse

2009-02-10T18:30:00.000-08:00

This is the house my grandmother grew up in, just off Flatbush Ave in Brooklyn. My great-grandmother (known to my mother and her brother as OtherMother because she could not bear to something as old-sounding as Grandmother) , an interior designer who went to Pratt, was forbidden by her husband to work (it was common, you know) and so instead moved every year around New York (so she would have new places to decorate) until they fell upon this brownstone in Brooklyn, where they stayed for years, selling only after my Grandmother left to get married (eloped, actually, with her mother and in a lovely lavender suit from Saks). This house is legendary in our family; I have pictures of the kitchen and bathroom from the '30's- spectacular subway tile with black trim and a black pedestal sink, with just astounding black, white and wallpaper on the upper half of the wall, featuring the most cunning goldfish, and the kitchen with it's wonderful enamel appliances and gleaming white surfaces. I'm happy to say most of the decorative accesories visible in the pictures are with either me or my mum to this day, as is much of the furniture that fills our houses. My great-grandparents weren't rich, exactly, but they had occasional years of prosperity that allowed them things like the "Big House", as it was called.

This is a house that my own mother never went to (it had been sold, her grandparents having moved to a lovely apartment in Greenwich Village by the time she was born), but she could tell you where the bathrooms were, and where her mother's room was, and who lived in the house across the street because she had heard so many stories over the years. So imagine her surprise when, while reading the New York Times real estate section (she has always done this- I consider it a bizarre form of masochism) this past Sunday, the featured home was the Big House! Reader, she dropped the paper, gathered her husband (who's always up for adventure), got in the car, and drove the 3 hours to Brooklyn for the open house. She introduced herself to the agent, who was quite delighted by this turn of events, took a million pictures, talked to the neighbors, and turned around and came home.

How do you like that?

Maybe Kansas

2009-02-09T14:21:00.001-08:00

is cooler than we think.

Piano Man in the Dining room

2009-02-06T21:02:00.000-08:00

Because I don't own a camera (really), I am always purely thrilled when someone sends me pictures- total novelty. Since this is a blog about my domestic life and not about my friends, I will just tell you about what you are seeing and not anybody's back story (but how cute is baby J here?). The piano is an old and awful thing that I fought with B over letting in the house (his argument, "it was my mother's and now E can learn to play the piano and it will make her even better at math"; my argument, " it is so ugly and big and it makes me cry when I look at it". I think my points were stronger but, somehow, I lost). There is nowhere great to put it, and I'm still a little bitter, but moving on. The girl is-slowly-learning how to play, and it's nice when friends play on it. It's not nice when children "play" on it, however; I keep meaning to close it when we have people over but always forget. I also always mean to tell E not to mention the 3 drum-sets in the basement so's no one gets any ideas, but I always forget to do that, too.

Anyway. On top pf the piano is a smattering of books, as it is a flat surface and that is where books go. I used to be extremely precise about my arrangement of books- fiction alphabetically arranged, non-fiction arranged by subject, then alphabetized. The (adult) fiction pretty much lives in the bedroom, and is still alphabetized, but then I ran out of bookshelves so the books have rather taken over. Which I love, actually. Someday there will be shelves that are built into the wall, but this is fine for now. Also on top of the piano are what will probably be the second-to-last round of paper whites for the year, maybe the only things that make winter worth living through (well, that and soup, of course). The walls are orange, which I'm not sick of quite yet, and you can just see in the mirror one of the black walls in the living room, with the lyrics to "At Last" written in chalk, inspired by the inaugural dance, of course, but also from missing B, who was in DC at the time for the party (where he was working, not attending, despite looking handsome in a tux).

As I said, I won't talk about my friends here, but I did want to give the photographer, Ryan, a shout-out. He recently did a small installation in the living room that is really different from what I would normally be drawn to, but I am loving it and feel quite honored that Ryan is letting it live here for now. I'll put pictures up soon (like when he takes some and sends them to me!).

Hilarious

2009-02-03T11:45:00.000-08:00

I may have reached a new low in the wasting time department. But certainly I needed to know what kind of punctuation best reflects who I am, yes? The semi-colon is my favorite anyway, so I'm OK with the whole thing .(I was afraid I might be an ellipses, which would be crushing, of course.)

http://www.blogthings.com/whatpunctuationmarkareyouquiz/

Thanks, Abby.

What Punctuation Mark Are You?

You Are a Semi-Colon

You are elegant, understated, and subtle in your communication.
You're very smart (and you know it), but you don't often showcase your brilliance.

Instead, you carefully construct your arguments, ideas, and theories â€“ until they are bulletproof.
You see your words as an expression of yourself, and you are careful not to waste them.

You friends see you as enlightened, logical, and shrewd.
(But what you're saying often goes right over their heads.)

You excel in: The Arts

You get along best with: The Colon

Oh, Domino

2009-02-01T12:29:00.000-08:00

You were my favorite. Ever, actually. I knew things were not going well for you, and I was bracing myself for the day when you would no longer greet me at my mailbox. All the other recent shelter magazines who've shuttered, Country Home, Cottage Living, House and Garden, O at Home, told the story of a struggling economy and changing reading styles. Design bloggers* have been gossiping for some time about your expected demise. And you did stumble a little with all the celebrity stuff, although we know it was just to help the magazine survive (and actually, Drew Barrymore's office was great, but the Katie Joel spread was tasteless). But still, to have this month's be the last, to shut down your website? So sad. Thank you to everyone who worked on the magazine, and to everyone whose homes were profiled. I am saving all my copies, and your vision(s) will be missed.

*People were really pissed at the March issue, which I never quite figured out. Was it the guilt of not being green enough? I dunno.

Maria Kalman

2009-02-01T11:47:00.001-08:00

I do so love Maria Kalman. Her occasional blog for the NY Times has a new posting, with poetic, thoughtful images inspired by the inauguration*. She first became known to us through her children's books, and then did things like New Yorker covers, and the Times blog, and then famously illustrated the new version of Strunk and White's Elements of Style. Once when E and I were in New York we went for a visit to the Children's Museum of Manhattan (so many nannies!) , the whole top floor was an installation of her drawings, including, randomly, all kinds of things about the Beatles. Of course I am very pleased by the drawings themselves, but her observations are so intriguing, I just want to have her over for a cup of tea. Or, better, go to the opera together and talk smack about everyone during intermission.

* I didn't write about this because I don't really have anything new to say, except, briefly: Wow, wow, wow; Justice Roberts, DOH; poets should hire readers;White Will Do Right; Dick Cheney- OMG; the booing made me a little mad; knowing that all those people, and all of my people, were feeling such patriotism for maybe the first time ever was incredible; loved the gold/green/teal, not so much the white Jason Wu; and just how much work there is to do, and how sobering- despite the joy- that really is. Oh, and as much as I would have liked to see Etta James, Beyonce nailed it.

BenCo!

2009-01-14T11:52:00.000-08:00

Upcoming shows include:

Bishop Allen @ Skully's, 1/19
Cursive @ The Summit, 1/21
Passion Pit @ The Summit, 1/30
Marah @ Circus, 2/11
Lovedrug @Skully's, 2/15

More information about these and other shows at bencopresents.com. He's kind of a big deal, that man of mine.

Oh, to be a window dresser...

2009-01-14T11:16:00.000-08:00

I know that while my love for taxidermy chic may not be waning, it's becoming a bit of a cliche in the design world. HOWEVER, the folks at Bergodrf's created extravagantly beautiful windows for Christmas this year (unlike, say, Simon Doonan's windows at Barney's, which were yuck) . It's like a Russian Fairy tale or ballet snuggled up close to Deyrolle , got very tipsy together, and made diarama babies. Love it to death (get it?).

I did not see these when I was in New York a couple of weeks ago; the closest we came was being nearly crushed to death as we were walking from the Onassis Center to the American Girl store*, 1 block and 15 minutes apart, because in between was Saks Fifth Avenue and their windows, which we could not see at all, due to all of the bodies, including at least one unfortunate gentleman who was so overcome by the glory of it all that he passed out.

*This was, in retrospect, a really terrible idea- the girl perfectly understood that this was to be what we call a "museum experience", ie looking at pretty things that we did not allow ourselves to actually want, and I just wanted her to see the place- a long ago promise- but did not count on the Saturday after Christmas in Rockefeller Center being being crazy-populated and my father visibly seething with actual hate for the masses that were, in actual fact, teeming around us. I actually love the American Girl dolls and stories, but the whole experience was kind of vulgar.

Wise words

2009-01-14T11:11:00.001-08:00

"There is something immoral and sick about using all of that power to not end brutality and poverty, but to break into people's bedrooms and claim that God sent you."

And,

"It amazes me," he said, "when I looked at California and saw churches that had nothing to say about police brutality, nothing to say when a young black boy was shot while he was wearing police handcuffs, nothing to say when they overturned affirmative action, nothing to say when people were being [relegated] into poverty, yet they were organizing and mobilizing to stop consenting adults from choosing their life partners."

"I am tired," he went on, "of seeing ministers who will preach homophobia by day, and then after they're preaching, when the lights are off they go cruising for trade...We know you're not preaching the Bible, because if you were preaching the Bible we would have heard from you."

Sometimes, I just fucking love Al Sharpton.

16 things

2009-01-04T09:08:00.000-08:00

I was tagged by Bridget, one of my favorite people ever.

1) I am so ADD that I can't do anything that requires concentration if there is anything going on around me. Making a phone call, doing basic math, emailing, anything. When E was a toddler, she knew to stop talking when we were going on the freeway, because, "Mama's merging."

2) I think about people, strangers and friends, all the time.

3) I will never be as good a person, or a mother, as my mother.

4) I'm never sure whether my complete lack of ambition is pathological, self-destructive and indefensibly lazy, or heroically sane.

5) I am very sure that my feelings about tidiness are pathological. Sorry, those that live with me.

6) I am regularly astonished by how much I don't know.

8) I still believe all the nice things my parents ever said about me, despite plenty of evidence to the contrary.

9) I get teary 6 or 7 times a day; not from sadness, just goofy tenderness for us all.

10) I could happily sleep 13 hours a day. Sometimes I even do.

11) Despite the difficulties of not having any money, I feel proud of how simply we live (yes, only in comparison to the rest of the US, and of course we could do better).

12) After years of having a subscription to the New Yorker, it's only been in the last 4 or 5 years that I've actually been reading it.

13) I feel grateful everyday for the people I love and the life I get to have.

14) I really wonder what's going to happen.

15) It makes me uncomfortable to find our new president so hot.

16) I don't tell B that I love him ofter enough. B, I love you and am glad for everything.

Pure goodness

2009-01-03T21:49:00.000-08:00

The Heifer Project is just good. Give them money. Some people are discomfited by the Christian element, but I say to you as a devout non-Christian (very different, please understand, from anti-Christian), get (the fuck) over it. Send $10 for a share of a goat or some bunnies.

OMG people are coming over and they expect to be fed

2009-01-03T21:31:00.000-08:00

What does one make when a) there is no money, b) there is no time and c) there is no inspiration? To the (bare-ish) cupboard I go.

This time, it was Curried Peanut Soup (it's not that I don't like solid food, really).

Saute 1 onion until translucent, add 1 T good curry powder
Add 1 can coconut milk
Add 1 cup peanut butter
Add 6 -8 c vegetable broth
Add 1 cup brown rice

Let come to a boil, then simmer

When you feel like it, add some vinegar (I used a white balsamic- is that even a real thing?- but any kind would do, I think) and lots of salt- add teaspoon by teaspoon, tasting all the while, until it seems right, and maybe a bit more curry. Let cook at least until the rice is done, but longer if you like.

Fini.

Also, I told people to bring their own damn wine, and this seemed to work out. For me, at least.

A note on editing

2009-01-03T21:21:00.001-08:00

I KNOW. I SEE THEM, TOO.

Sorry, I didn't mean to shout, but it is beyond maddening that I cannot figure out how to edit after I have posted something. I am a smart, literate person, I swear. The daughter of an English professor and even a part-time (paid, even!) proof-reader, I am just so ADD that I cannot edit my own copy. Please know that I know where to put the parenthesis, semi-colons and and apostrophes, and I generally know how to spell. Leaving these errors in feels like I'm in 7th grade and bled through my white (Esprit, pegged) pants and everyone is laughing at how stupid I am.

Someday I will figure it out, I think. Probably.

Paint it black

2009-01-03T14:46:00.001-08:00

All I really wanted for Christmas was to paint my living room black (why did I have to wait for Christmas, you ask? Because I could not justify spending $30 frivolously, but reasoned that Christmas money didn't count. Reasoned might not be the right word.) . As soon as we got off the plane from our trip (it was lovely, that you for asking), we went straight to Lowe's, came home, and started painting. I even sacrificed going out on New Year's to get it done (note to A, who graciously let us crash her family thing down down the street- thanks, and I hope that strange man was gone when you woke up.). So up went the paint, and after rearranging things literally a million times I think I know where I'm going with everything. I'm kind of being angsty about putting fresh holes in the wall, but I'm sure the feeling will pass.

I foolishly thought I would be done with both the living room and the kitchen (which is being treated to a new, more vibrant green), so I told friends that while they couldn't have the pleasure of my company for New Year's, they were welcome to come over for soup and wine (my usual offering, and I'm glad I found someone to appreciate it because my family is finding it increasingly less charming) on Saturday, and now it's Saturday and I spent all my money on paint so what an I going to make?

The black is working, though; I'm glad I did it, even if I did have to ghettoize a bunch of furniture to the basement. I'm sure I'll figure out where to paut the art and mirrors. Now looking for a smallish wood bookshelf, if anyone has any leads. And, always, more art; must bribe child into making something outsider-y.

Oh, and the above picture is from Domino (*swoon* although they need to cool it with the randonm celebrities- Katie Joel, I'm talking to you- and send Miles Redd to go live on a kibbutz somewhere before they give him another spread), not me, and I will even say that I like our room more.

Hangover Soup

2008-12-21T16:25:00.000-08:00

Despite going to 3 (delightful-thanks, hosts) parties last night, I am not exactly hungover, more like very sleepy and terribly uninspired. So I leave you with the easiest soup recipe I know, the soup I make when I don't have any fresh ingredients and am too lazy/poor to go to the store.

Tomato Rosemary Soup

1/2 an onion, diced, then sauteed
1 T fresh rosemary, 1 t if dried to add to onions
Add 1 small tin of tomato paste with about 2 cups of water, stir around a bit
Add 1 t sugar, 2 t salt, 1 t pepper
1 additional T of fresh rosemary
1/4 cup cow or coconut milk

Let cook for a few minutes, then eat. Takes abut 10 minutes and serves 2 or 3

I'm hoping this soup is good for my liver, because last night we drank like it was our job. Stories for another time, doves. We'll just say that the fire was impressive, Madonna holds up well, men of a certain age from Arlington look completely indistinguishable from generations of fathers before them (is there a special place they get their hair cut?), puppies are super-cute, I really hope the wine came out of the shirt I spilled it on ( and if you ever read this, Jeff, I'm sorry, but now we're even), relationships are hard, and it's nice that the police officer was so understanding. A fine time to alive, all told.

Books, everywhere, books...

2008-12-15T13:52:00.000-08:00

I occasionally entertain myself with the "What if we had lots of money" game. This is different from the "We don't have any money" game, because it doesn't include upsetting things like, How will we pay the mortgage? and, What would really happen if I fed my child nothing but .39 mac-n-cheese, and because, not having money isn't much of a game, now, is it? Anyway, the "What if I had lots of money game" is all about fantasy, and it includes things like fabulous trips, having a well-paid seamstress to whip up beautiful clothes for my family (and friends! I wouldn't forget you!), or, endlessly, houses of (nearly) every flavor, Victorian, cottage, brownstone, mid-century, warehouse loft, tree house; you get the idea. This fantasy life also includes an unlimited budget for books, of course. But then, practical girl that I am, I get to wondering how we would house all the books- would we have built-in book shelves (yes!), would there be stacks everywhere (seems likely), would they ever get dusted (if current standard apply, this seems very unlikely indeed). So I particularly appreciate the beauty of these stair bookcases, and the installation piece with books is especially inspired. Someday, though, I will have those built-ins, as kitty is my witness (hear that, Stinky? You are being called upon. Do try to stop eating for a moment).

Sharper than a serpent's tooth...*

2008-12-14T19:40:00.000-08:00

Soup, how I love you. You let me be known to my friends as a decent cook, you don't cost the earth, you are healthy, you are forgiving, and, importantly, you are warm. So you can imagine my distress when a friend told me that my daughter, upon being offered soup, said, "Oh, God, no more soup." I mean what kind of rotten kid would not be grateful to have a nutritious, delicious, and did I mention, warm, meal of soup? I mean yes, I think last week she had soup in her lunch 3 times and, it's possible, 3 times for dinner, but they were different soups! Today's was a curried roast cauliflower that was awesome, but the beast boycotted (it was a mistake to give her that option, yes?) and went with a tofu-sweet potato stir fry.

Here's the soup recipe (with thanks and apologies to Martha Stewart):

Cut 2 heads of cauliflower into medium sized florets, mix with a pinch of salt and a teaspoon or 2 of vegetable oil

Put cauliflower on a baking sheet and roast in a 450 degree oven for 20-30 minutes, until they start to get brown

Cut 2 onions, and saute them in a tablespoon or so of butter or oil until they are translucent

Add a few teaspoons of curry powder; continue to saute

Add roasted cauliflower

Add 4-5 cups of vegetable broth

Let cook for a little bit- 10 minutes, maybe

Puree in a blender

Salt to your liking

Voila!

And let it be said that there are 5 ingredients in here, and when I ventured into Aldi's this week (it was only my second time- kind of a weird place, and a little depressing, BUT...) cauliflower was only .89 a head. I decided that made it OK to eat 5 bowls.

*...it is to have a thankless child. Oh how I hated to have my father throw this at me, and how I swore never to quote Shakespeare to my (then unimagined) child, but it has a certain ring to it, you know?

Fuck You, Penguin

2008-12-13T10:09:00.000-08:00

I know, but it really is called that. I really do not intend to have a blog where I just post cool things I see online (like, Oh, that George Bush sure is dumb! or, That Tina Fey is a riot!) because that would just be lazy. However, I am a sucker for snark and cute, so while my girl has cuteoverload (the standard bearer), this one is all mine.

What I would like on my tree...

2008-12-10T14:03:00.000-08:00

Love. These were found on the blog for the non-fiction design group, a collective based right here in our fair city of Columbus.

Futhark is my favorite word today

2008-12-08T20:33:00.000-08:00

FreeRice.com is an online vocabulary builder, where every word that you get right earns 20 grains of rice that is donated through the U.N. World Food program. So you get to be smarter and do good work, which is pretty righteous, if you ask me. Tell me your vocab level, and I'll tell you mine.

Wonderful Jewlery

2008-12-08T18:28:00.001-08:00

Aren't these charming? They were created by local artist Anne Holman, who was just deservedly recognized by Out Magazine. She has her own collection of vintage maps and atlases, but if you had a little snippet of your own, she would be happy to make something custom. A little bit Steampunk-y, maybe? Winning, certainly. Would you wear one around your neck, like a vial of a beloved's blood, or would you line them up and glory in your riches? I wonder where the dirt comes from? We'll have to ask her. Where would dirt from your favorite place come from? I should say something high-brow like the Pretoria National Botanical Gardens, but I kind of think it would be somewhere closer to home, like maybe, actually, home.

We get to go here!

2008-12-08T16:10:00.000-08:00

The Mutter Museum in Philadelphia is filled with all kinds of medical treasures, including- but not limited to- the super-colon, the torsos of Chang and Eng, the world famous conjoined twins, and the tallest skeleton in display in North America. Just think of it, rows and rows of perfectly preserved organs, neatly labeled bones, and, oh, the anomalies! I cannot wait. When I was little, my (very wonderful) mother was a social worker in a local hospital, and when she came home from work I would beg her to tell me stories from her day. These included patient's dramas, the soap-opera lives of fellow staffers, and my favorite, "Gory Stories". These were really awful stories where someone endured terrible, painful things, but they were endlessly fascinating to my 7 year old self. Similarly, I know that looking at a "specimen" that is really something it's original owner no doubt suffered greatly over during their lifetime should not interest me as it does, but there you are. Gory Stories did me in, I suppose, and now my (very wonderful) mother is taking us there as a holiday treat.

And then, of course, there is the Museum of Natural History, a place I never fail to be inspired in. I would totally live there if I could, like in The Mixed up Files of Mrs Basil E Frankweiler. Something about all those dioramas, and all that taxidermy, and all those bones, just makes my heart thrill. I was telling my (also wonderful) father that the girl has no memory of having been there, despite having a dozen or so trips under her belt. He agreed that this was a tragedy, and offered that as his Solstice (I know, but he would never say Christmas) gift to us. I have nice parents, yes?

I would like to say that my interest in all things medical and scientific reflected some untapped genius, but the truth is my love is almost entirely aesthetic. Yup, I really am that shallow. Organs in a jar of formaldahyde, an insect trapped in lucite, robin's egg shells, nests, racoon skulls? Love. I just think they're so pretty.

Off to re-read Geek Love and At Large and at Small.

Finally...

2008-12-08T15:06:00.000-08:00

Mary Jo Kilroy FTW

The first Democrat to win a Congressional seat in Franklin County in a generation. 42 years! Wow. The good guys worked really hard on this- thank you, good guys! The whole provisional ballot thing is still bullshit, though.

Wallpaper

2008-11-30T18:49:00.001-08:00

How pretty is that? This is a William Morris print, one of dozens that I would love to look at everyday. Remember how we hated wallpaper? What now-hideous thing do you think we will collectively fall in love with next? Wall to wall carpeting, in pea green? Low ceilings? Acoustic tile ceilings? The mind reels...

Midnight is a Place

2008-11-30T17:18:00.000-08:00

After a rollicking Thanksgiving, where we fed and entertained around 30 people into the wee hours of the morning, our sleep schedule, never what one would call normal, is all kinds of off. My daughter, who is 10, has always been a champion sleeper, hard to convince to go to sleep, but perfectly happy to sleep until afternoon hours. I can sleep pretty much anywhere, anytime, like a kitty. On Friday, we slept until 2, napped again around 4, and then were WIDE AWAKE. After righting the house, eating again, catching up on Pushing Daisies, and, um, eating AGAIN, we went back to the book we had started a few days before. Joan Aiken is a contemporary author, 1924- 2003, who wrote marvelously grim children's novels (along with many other things, not yet explored by me.), known especially for her series, The Wolves Chronicles. This one, Midnight is a Place, takes place in a Dickensonian Victorian England, and centers around 2 children thrown together when their dreadful guardian dies, burning down their house in the process. As we know, all successful children's stories have orphans as the protagonists, and this book is no exception.The children are forced to find their way doing most vile things, like working as a "tosher" in the sewers, looking for discarded treasure, or risking their life in the carpet factory that should be theirs, or finding old cigar butts in the streets and crafting new ones with the tobacco bits. We talk all the time about how lucky we are; despite living in what most Americans might call poverty, we have incredible riches- a comfortable home, good food, books aplenty, wonderful friends to share everything with. But even with all these conversations under our belt, to read a book that does not stint in it's descriptions of hard lives was an eye opener for both of us, and further motivation to not buy things made by 10 year olds. We read, and read, and read, until it was 2 in the morning. I asked E if is she was too tired for me to keep going, but she was not a bit sleepy, so we kept going until the end. So worth it, despite the froggy voice I was left with.

Just as we were finishing, my partner came home with an out-of-town friend, who couldn't quite believe that children, and people with children, led lives like this. "You mean you'll all just sleep in tomorrow? Until how late? I think maybe I should reconsider this whole no-kid thing." Indeed.

Inspiration

2008-11-30T16:19:00.000-08:00

Everywhere I look, really, are things that inspire. A quick glance around my tiny house finds books, pretty things, ingredients for a future meal, little girl shoes, big girl boots and a man hat, or three. This is an experiment for me, a way to keep track of everyday thoughts, experiences and, yes, inspirations.